The Emancipation of Draco Malfoy
by ArtemisEpona
Summary: Draco has failed to do his master's bidding and knows he must face punishment. Draco's shame, however, can not compare to the echo of Dumbledore's words . . . can he escape the Dark Lord?
1. The Flight's End

Chapter 1

Dumbledore's last words to Draco stayed with him, haunted him: _"It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now." _

He was terrified of going with Snape and the others, terrified to face the Dark Lord. He had failed his mission and had cost their Master his spy of the past fifteen years. He would be sneered at, spit upon, deemed as unworthy and as much a bumbling fool as his father.

At least he hadn't been captured and sent to that horrible place to rot with his father – but maybe it would have been better to suffer in Azkaban than to suffer the Dark Lord's wrath when he returned a failure.

But to Draco's immense relief, when Snape grabbed his arm, and they Apparated on the street, they didn't arrive before the Dark Lord's headquarters. They were outside his father's Wiltshire Mansion. To Draco's horror, the iron gates were swinging off their hinges, one of the trees on the lot had been uprooted, it appeared, in a whirlwind which had swept over the entire property and smashed everything. The top half of the mansion was caved in by another fallen tree. Draco stood with his mouth open, staring across what seemed to be miles of scattered debris. Over the gaping hole in the mansion's crumbled roof drifted the Dark Mark and its ghostly grin.

"He knows," said Snape in a low voice and he seemed to be gathering his nerve. He took Draco's arm and dragged him roughly up the pavement. Draco noticed his hand was shaking on his wand. "He'll ask you questions – hide nothing from him and speak as little as possible. Let me handle the rest."

Draco's heart thudded loudly in his ears. He felt the prickle of tears and swallowed them down, hoping and praying that his mother was alive and in one piece. She could be murdered because of him, lying in the debris of their mansion which the Dark Lord's giants had caused.

Draco couldn't have spoken had he was wanted to. As they drew nearer and nearer the mansion, he felt he was going to be sick.

They paused on the step.

Snape collected himself with a deep breath and stopped his hands from shaking with a fierce will. He noticed Draco's face had gone very white, and taking Draco's shoulder, said firmly, "I promised your mother I would watch over you and protect you. I am closest to the Dark Lord, he'll listen to me."

"You – you can't be serious!" Draco said shrilly, his eyes popping. He smacked Snape's hand off his shoulder with a sneer. "My mother is dead now! Dead!" he shouted, jabbing a shaking finger at the door, through which the legs of a chair were thrust.

Something sad flickered in Snape's black eyes. He swallowed thickly and turned to the door. Tucking his wand away, he pushed it open.


	2. Malfoy Manor

Chapter 2

The inside of the mansion was as destroyed as the property. Draco swallowed thickly, as if some horrible taste were sitting on his tongue. The house was completely totaled. Pictures had crashed from the walls, their crumpled frames in pools of glass; furniture was overturned, smashed, and appeared to have even been burned in the fire, which stood cold now and containing the charred remains of several chairs. The dinning room table was half through a window, the bathtub upstairs was half-hanging through the ceiling, the rugs were pulled up, burnt, and torn . . . but worst of all by far were the stains: dark, disturbing, red streaks smudged the walls, the carpet, and oozed in dried shells over the snapped banister . . . There appeared to be no one there at all.

The blank look on Snape's face was not encouraging. Draco had never seen the man afraid before, but now, facing his mother's possible death, Snape seemed on the point of a breakdown.

It was common knowledge among the Death Eaters and even to Lucius that Snape and Narcissa were good friends, but just how close they were did not become apparent to Draco until this night. He watched in amazement as his favorite teacher's usually flat black eyes darted here and there all over the front room with a sharp mixture of silent panic and sorrow.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Draco demanded in disgust, brushing past Snape and wading into the debris. "Mum! Mum? Are you here? Where are you!"

Snape went after him with an impatient flash. "I told you --" he began in a low voice, but Draco ignored him and began to climb the stair. This proved a feat, as the stairs were blocked by everything from trampled potted plants to his very own bed blown to pieces. Draco staggered over the mess, still calling, "Mum! MUM!" then under his breath as a tear found the tip of his nose, "_Please_, be alive!"

Draco had finally reached the top when he felt a hand close in a vise grip over his elbow. He twisted around to find himself face to face with Snape, who'd followed him up the stair. Snape climbed over a last crumpled trunk and whipped Draco around. Draco snatched himself free.

"Take care!" Snape hissed. "I brought you here to collect your mother and guide you both to safety --"

"What do you mean?"

"-- but it seems the Dark Lord has closed this avenue for us --"

"What do you mean!" said Draco more loudly.

"I mean this!" growled Snape, his black eyes flashing yet again as he took Draco by the arms. "It was Dumbledore's dying wish that you become a defector! My mission given from both sides has been _to protect you_!"

Draco's lip curled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing! "You traitor! You've been working for Dumbledore all along!"

"Shut up, Draco, and listen to me!" Snape snapped, shaking Draco so hard he bit his tongue. "You don't have a choice! You've failed to murder Dumbledore and will be murdered yourself --"

"My mother --!" began Draco angrily, tears pooling over his cheeks. He blushed in humiliation and shame and wanted suddenly to hit Snape in the face.

"Your mother is dead!" Snape interrupted; his voice hoarse. He turned away and Draco thought he saw him bring a hand to his eyes. But a moment later he turned back to Draco, his hand touching his temple as if to ward off a headache. After a pause he said, "I need you to follow my instructions if you want to come out of this alive, Draco."

Draco stood mutely and realized for the first time that he didn't have a choice: he would die if he faced Voldemort, whether Snape was a traitor or not.

"After I murdered Dumbledore I was supposed to bring you here and collect your mother. I was then to convey you and Narcissa to a secret place where only I knew the location --"

"She wouldn't have trusted you as our Secret Keeper if she knew what a lying piece of filth you are," said Draco quietly, his eyes narrowed on Snape.

The words seemed to sting Snape, not because they were true but because they were coming from Draco. In the face of the pain, he smiled ironically and welcomed the torment with flat unyielding eyes. "Bravo, Draco, you've cottoned on and you realize I serve no one but Severus Snape. However, neither of us have time for your adolescent whining, so it would benefit us both immensely if you would shut up."

Draco's hands tightened into fists and he swallowed again as if the foul taste were still in his mouth but said nothing.

"Because the Death Eaters have murdered Narcissa and made rather a party of destroying the mansion, there seems no reason for any of them to return here – and even if they do, this is now the secret location in which I shall I hide you and which no one can guess unless I tell them flatly."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You can't leave me here!"

"At the moment, we haven't a choice. The Dark Lord is expecting me and will wonder why I've lingered. I'll need to explain to him that you escaped and that I lost you in pursuit."

". . . won't he punish you?' said Draco, bewildered and yet alarmed.

Snape gave another sardonic smile. "He will. But if the Dark Lord comes out victorious in the end, then one night of the Cruciatious Curse was worth it. And if the Dark Lord is defeated again, won't assisting you be a sweet little alibi?"

Draco ground his teeth and flew at Snape, but Snape sent him flying into the wall with a flick of his wand. "If you couldn't even kill Dumbledore, how could you hope to kill me?" he said in a bored voice. But to Draco's surprise, he moved across the landing and helped him to his feet. There was sincere feeling in the black eyes as he said, "Though I served myself, I served always your mother first. Make no mistake about that: I loved Narcissa, Draco. I love her still."

Snape turned and clamored back down the debris-scattered stair. Draco hesitated and followed, a lump in his throat.

"Where are we going?" he said humbly after a while.

Snape led him through the twisted, bloody maze of his home, moving always with swift feet.

They came at last to the dinning room where, to Draco's horror, their cat was pinned to the wall in a bloody mass of fur. Trying hard not to look at it, Draco followed Snape to the fireplace, where the latter lifted the rug to reveal a trapdoor.

"You can't expect me to hide down there!" Draco shrilled.

"Make no mistake, Draco: I never expected you to do anything I asked without moaning."

Draco glowered but knelt beside the trapdoor and peered apprehensively into the chamber below. It was too dark to see and he knew the room had initially kept various Dark Arts items which his father used to hide from the Ministry. The items had been taken now, of course, and the room had not been used for years. It didn't however keep Draco from wondering if Death Eaters were lurking in the shadows.

As if confirming his fears, a groan and the rattle of chains echoed from bellow. Draco fell backward onto the carpet in his hurry to get clear of the chamber's descending stair.

"He's not a Death Eater," said Snape, his arms folded across his chest as he watched Draco calmly.

The groan came again.

"Who is he?" Draco snapped, getting to his feet.

"He's an old . . . _acquaintance_ . . . of ours," said Snape vaguely. He swept his cloak over his shoulder and made for the door. Draco followed him.

"I shall return as soon as I can, which might not be very soon at all. You must stay here against all odds, Draco. Understand?"

Draco nodded grimly.

"If you abandon this location the Dark Lord will discover and murder you."

A silent understanding passed between them as they met eyes. Then Snape turned with a whirl of his cloak and hurried up the path.

"What if you don't return?" Draco called.

"I will!"

Snape walked swiftly through the battered gate, turned on the spot, and was gone.


	3. The Prisoner

Chapter 3

The mansion was disturbing enough that Draco practically fled for the hidden stair. He hesitated at the top, peering into the gloom and wondering who was at the bottom. He'd never been in the chamber beneath the dinning room before and knew with a shudder that he would have to shut the trapdoor over himself.

"_Lumos_," Draco whispered hoarsely.

A seed of light blossomed on the tip of his wand, and he held it aloft as he took careful step after careful step down the stair. Closing the trapdoor over his head was like closing himself in a cave. The room was cold, wet, and drafty, and so large that no matter which way he aimed his wand he could never hope to glimpse every inch of it.

Draco stepped off the last step and snarled a curse when his foot sank in a puddle. He shouted and sloshed his way out of it, only to slosh into another one.

"Bloody_ hell_! Is the place flooded?" Draco roared, aiming his wand at the floor. His heart sank: it was.

Someone coughed very weakly and a chain rattled against wet stone. Draco froze. He'd nearly forgotten someone was supposed to be down here. He spun around, aiming his wand light in every direction as he demanded, "Who's there!"

". . . Who are you . . .?" said a voice as thin as a bit of string. ". . . Have you come to rescue me?" the voice added hopefully.

Draco listened to the voice more carefully the second time it spoke. His face went blank and he stood a moment dumbstruck, then laughed nastily. "I don't believe it!" he said, his incredulous disgust echoing against the walls. He swung the beam of his wand around to land on a pale, miserable face. "_Weasley_?"

Draco would never have recognized the prisoner had he merely looked at him, but hearing his voice for some odd reason boosted his memory. He took a step closer, running his wand light up and down the prisoner's prostrate body. Percy Weasley lie pale and weak on the flooded floor; his red hair plastered nicely to his head, his glasses askew and one of the lenses cracked; his shabby work clothes drenched, tattered, and filthy. Draco noticed with sharp eyes that tuffs of Percy's hair was missing, as if it'd been ripped from his scalp, and dried blood snaked across his forehead. His sock and pants were torn where he was chained at the ankle to a large iron ball. His other foot at least had a shoe but the pants were still torn.

Draco was immensely pleased to see someone worse off than him, but his delight sank away when he realized he'd be stuck here with the prisoner for an unknown length of time. He kicked at the water savagely and sloshed in the opposite direction, looking for something – anything – that wasn't covered in a foot of water.

Percy dragged himself up. " . . . Malfoy?" he said slowly.

Draco didn't answer. Wasn't there anything in this damned chamber besides four walls? It was too dark to tell. Draco noticed a barred window so high it resembled a postage stamp. Maybe in the morning he'd find something, but tonight he'd have to sleep on the stair. Exhausted, Draco waded his way back to the stair and sat – and was aggravated to discover the prisoner directly across from him.

Percy's pale face scrutinized Draco in the dark. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he said as sharply as if he was a prefect again and they were at school.

"I might ask you the same thing, as you're under my house!" snarled Draco, gray eyes flashing.

"You might want to watch your tone," said Percy, adjusting his glasses. "I may not have a wand, but I might have contact with the outside again and can reveal your whereabouts --" Here he broke off in a small coughing fit.

Draco gasped in spite of himself when he saw the blood spew from Percy's lips. Percy tried to hide it but it was too late.

"You're dying!" said Draco, drawing back in disgust.

"No, it's just – I haven't eaten in several days . . ." Percy admitted.

"But what the bloody hell are you doing under my house! Father captured you before he was arrested, did he?" Draco seemed amused. "You Weasleys are so pathetic."

Percy laughed hoarsely and cocked an eyebrow. "You have the nerve to call my family pathetic when not only has your father been imprisoned in Azkaban but you yourself are on the run from You-Know-Who?"

Draco's eyebrows rushed together in a scowl. "Shut up about my father, Weasley!" he warned, pointing his wand.

Percy merely sat amused.

Draco lowered his wand a fraction. "And – and who said I was on the run, anyway?"

"I can hear everything that goes on upstairs," answered Percy. "Death Eaters came here not long ago and --" He paused and something sympathetic washed over his face. "I'm sorry about your mother, Malfoy."

Tears sprang to Draco's eyes and his hand shook on his wand. "I said shut up, Weasley!" he warned, closing his eyes. But once the sympathy was given, he asked in spite of himself, "How – how long have you been down here?"

Percy slouched miserably against the wall. "A little over two years," he sighed, dragging his legs through the water. The heavy ball gave a loud grating sound and rolled forward across the unleveled ground into the pool of water in which Percy sat. "I went to Mr. Crouch's home after the incident with that boy who died – Cedric, I believe. Really tragic."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You didn't even know him!"

"It was tragic all the same, to die that young." His eyes rested for a moment on Draco, who squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze: if it hadn't been for Snape, he could have been murdered just as easily.

"Of course, Mr. Crouch had been ill for the longest time and I was bound to take up the workload. I went to his house for something – he'd given me a key by owl when he later became ill – it was a trap. You-Know-Who was there and Peter Pettigrew . . ." His fists clenched and for the first time Percy showed real anger.

Draco's lip curled. "And all this time, you've been under my house!"

"No, not all this time," said Percy hoarsely and paused to clear his throat. "You-Know-Who gave orders to move me here some time the summer before last. I don't suppose I should bother calling him You-Know-Who anymore though, should I? Not in any danger of being kidnapped, am I?" He managed a weak, ironic smile.

"But you can't have been down here that long!" said Draco in disgust. "I've seen you at the Ministry and at Hogwarts – always up under Umbridge and that idiot Fudge. . . ." 

Percy leaned his head against the wall and shook it back and forth slowly. "No, Malfoy, you saw Pettigrew under the influence of Polyjuice Potion."

"Can't have," said Malfoy stubbornly.

Percy shrugged sluggishly. "Believe what you want. It doesn't change the fact . . ." he coughed again and a dark line of blood trickled from the corner of his pale pasty lips, ". . . that I'm down here . . . though I rather wish it did."


End file.
